


you're safe like spring time

by soldouthaz



Series: drabbles [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dry Humping, Enemies to Lovers, Grinding, Library, M/M, PWP, Top Harry, Uni AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz
Summary: And it's bad enough that he's trapped in the library during a storm, but it's infinitely worse that he's stuck in the library during a storm with his teammate and sworn enemy - Harry Styles.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670983
Comments: 19
Kudos: 528





	you're safe like spring time

The library closes at nine o’clock on Wednesdays. 

Louis knows this because he checked before he left his dorm, pulled out his phone and looked at the university webpage so he knew that he’d have enough time to finish his project before tomorrow. 

It’d been very clear - big, bolded lettering that was centered on the page so that students would be able to see it. And, despite what he’d thought before, it hadn’t been difficult to find, either. Within two clicks, Louis had all of the library information under his fingertip. It closes at seven o’clock on Sundays, eight o’clock on most weekdays, and nine o’clock on Wednesdays. 

So why is the exit locked? 

He’d shown up at five right after his classes to make sure he could get his work done. The research paper consisted of several lengthy quotes and structured, thought-out responses to each one, and had taken him a good few weeks to find enough time to complete and turn in. 

Three hours later, at eight o’clock, he’d pressed submit with a smile on his face, packed up his things and logged out to head back to his dorm. 

What he’d gotten instead was the quietness of an empty library when he slid his headphones out of his ears, and a heavy, wooden door that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pressed against it. 

The emergency lights are still on above his head, but everything else is dark. Louis hadn’t noticed it in the back corner of the library, his favorite spot, next to the window where the sun had been gradually setting since he’d sat down. To top it off, it’s been raining off and on for a few hours now in preparation for an apparent storm coming tonight, and Louis  _ hates _ storms. 

Lightning, thunder, and the sound of hard drops of water hitting the window pane outside make him anxious. That’s why he’d put his headphones in to begin with. 

He’d planned to have a nice cup of tea when he got home, maybe fall asleep to some of his favorite old movies and be well rested for the game tomorrow. The game Louis is supposed to be well prepared for, according to his coach. If he ends up trapped in here for the rest of the night, there isn’t even a chance. 

But it all gets even better, because he’s not alone. He’d found that out a few minutes prior, when he’d let out a pathetic half-sob, half-groan into the darkness and slid to the floor to wrap his hands around his knees. 

Right after that, with a chuckle and a conceited tilt of his head, Harry Styles had come out of the darkness and Louis’d screamed. Loudly, enough so that Harry actually backed up a bit and raised his hands to show he was harmless. 

That’s the thing though, is that he isn’t harmless, and he’s not just a random student. 

He’s Louis’ sworn enemy, is what he is. 

Louis can’t stand him. Everyone else at the school thinks he’s amazing, and nice, and handsome, but Louis doesn’t see it. Entirely. 

Harry’s also supposed to be at the game tomorrow, in a more important position than Louis, but he’s surprisingly calm as he sinks down across the floor from him. He pulls out a clementine, eats it leisurely and stares. 

“What?” Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Nothing,” Harry grins, chewing, “you seem tense.” 

Huffing, Louis just crosses his arms and looks over to his left, away from Harry and his stupid orange. 

“Want some?” He offers. 

Louis doesn’t answer him. 

“How did you even get stuck in here?” He asks instead. 

“Was working on a project,” Harry says, “had my headphones in and didn’t hear them lock up.” 

_ Isn’t that ironi _ c, Louis thinks, pushing the end of one of his own headphones back into his bag when it sticks out the side. 

“That was stupid,” Louis sits up straighter against the door, breathes in deeply. 

Harry huffs out a laugh, “You did the same thing.” 

“So, we’re stuck the whole night, then?” 

“Looks like it,” he shoves the last of his orange into his mouth. 

It’s then when a bolt of thunder sounds above them, echoing loud and harsh in the quiet room, making Louis jump and whimper quietly. 

Harry’s brows furrow, “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing,” Louis snaps. 

“Are you -” Harry pauses thoughtfully, pinching his bottom lip, “are you afraid of the thunder?” 

He goes to open his mouth to tell Harry that, no, he’s fearless and unshakeable, but then it happens again. It’s louder this time, and then there’s the quick flash of bright lightning coming from the far window, lighting up the side of his face and giving Harry the perfect view of his wide, frightened eyes. 

Louis keeps his eyes on the carpet when Harry stands up to throw his trash away. He doesn’t want to see his reaction. 

That’s just it, isn’t it? Harry’s always made fun of the fact that Louis is smaller and therefore weaker than him, and Louis’ just gone and proved it. He wonders how long it’ll take for Harry to tell the rest of their team, what new insults and crude nicknames they’ll come up with for him. 

To his right, the click of Harry’s boots comes closer and closer until Louis can see them next to his thigh, and when he looks up Harry’s hand is next to his face, open and waiting. 

“C’mon,” he says, jerking his head toward another part of the library. 

Louis must look as apprehensive as he feels, because Harry sighs, reaching down to pick up all of Louis’ things and starts walking away. 

“Hey,” Louis whines. 

He gets up to follow him anyway because he’s already embarrassed himself to the point of no return and because he’s always been too curious for his own good. Harry seems sure of himself though, so Louis doesn’t ask anymore questions. 

They stop in front of another door a few minutes later, after Harry’s led him to the bottom floor, and he pulls out a key. 

“I’m a library aide,” he explains. 

_ Of course  _ Harry’s a library aide. 

Once the door’s open, Louis has to stand on his tip-toes to see the room over Harry’s shoulder. It’s small, and dark, but Harry flips on the light next to them after he fumbles to find it for a minute. 

One desk sits alone in the corner, with a small sofa across from it. Setting their things down on the desk, he flips on a lamp and turns to face Louis. 

“We can hang out here. It should lessen the noise a bit, hopefully.” 

Mouth opening slightly, Louis stares at him. 

He’d thought maybe Harry would bring him somewhere to make fun of him in private, or maybe even to beat him up or something so he wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow. Instead, he’d offered him comfort in the form of a private room away from the uproar of the second story. He hadn’t even mentioned his fear of thunderstorms. 

“Thank you.” 

It comes out quieter than Louis wanted it to, something that sounds more like awe than gratefulness, but Harry doesn’t linger on it. He nods at Louis once and then starts rifling through his backpack behind him on the desk. 

“Are you hungry? I think I’ve got a granola bar somewhere in here,” he trails off. 

“A bit, yeah,” Louis clears his throat, “not if it’s all you’ve got, though.” 

Harry doesn’t answer him, just keeps unzipping pockets and digging through his things. A few minutes later, he holds up the packaged bar triumphantly and grins over his shoulder. He breaks it in two, giving Louis one of the halves. 

“Thanks,” he says again. 

It takes him five minutes to eat the whole thing, breaking off pieces and chewing them thoroughly so he doesn’t choke on the dryness, and he tries to be quiet. He isn’t though, and by the time he’s done he’s got crumbs down his chin and on the front of his shirt. 

“You said you were a library aide?” 

Harry nods. 

“So, why didn’t you call one of them and tell them to come back and let us out?” 

“I tried,” he nudges his phone on the desk, “Several times. She didn’t answer.” 

Louis’ phone died a while ago, so he can’t call his roommate to come and save them, either. They really are stuck. 

Harry throws up a shoulder as if to say  _ sorry _ and then rounds the corner of the desk, sits down on the ground in front of it and pulls his knees up to his chest. 

Glancing over at the rest of the unoccupied sofa, Louis rolls his lips. 

“You can sit up here, if you want.” 

He keeps his eyes low so he won’t see Harry’s reaction, but it takes a few minutes before he sees him get up and move to sit next to him. He figures it’s a bit of a shock that Louis’ being nice for once. But Harry’d offered him food and a quiet place away from the storm, so. 

Muttering a quiet thanks, Harry keeps to himself on the opposite side of where Louis’ sitting, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. Louis wishes he had a phone charger, but he knows Harry would’ve gotten one out by now if he’d had one. 

It’s all very awkward and Louis wants to say something to break the silence, but he doesn’t know what. He’s not very interesting and, up until tonight, apparently, Harry’d disliked him with a passion. 

Harry speaks first, just as Louis’ about to ask him if they’ve got anything to entertain themselves with. 

“Are you ready for the game tomorrow?” 

Louis snorts, “I was. I’m sure I’ll be too tired to move tomorrow.” 

And that’s - that was definitely way too much information. It wouldn’t be if he were talking to anyone else, but Harry’s probably loving that he’s admitting defeat already. 

Although he’s panicking inside of his head, Harry just laughs quietly and nods. 

“Yeah, me too,” he notices Louis staring, “what?” 

“Nothing, I just thought you would make fun of me, ‘s all.” 

Harry’s face scrunches up, “Why would I do that?” 

Well, shit. Louis hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

“Because that’s what we do,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, his voice rising slightly toward the end. 

Across from him, Harry’s brows furrow. 

“I make fun of you?” 

Why is he asking so many  _ questions _ ? 

“I -” Louis waves a hand, but Harry’s still giving him his full attention. That’s a problem, because he can’t think of anything to say. 

And that has him freezing for a moment, because he legitimately cannot think of a time when Harry’s made fun of him that it actually hurt his feelings. He’d banted with him and joked around, but it was never anything he hadn’t done to the other guys on the team. 

“I guess not, no,” he whispers. 

Harry purses his lips and moves his head forwards and backwards slowly, eyes on his boots. 

The boy sitting opposite him is cocky, sure of himself, and, at times, mildly narcissistic. But maybe Louis had been exaggerating a bit when he’d said they were  _ enemies _ . He thinks he should probably apologize, but he’s not very good at that. Instead, he breathes in deeply and lets his gaze wander up to the ceiling, looking at the peeling wallpaper surrounding them. 

Why does he feel so guilty? He’s not done anything bad. Except, a few inches away, Harry seems distant now. Not that he’d been very open before, but he’s quiet and there’s a displeased tilt to his lips that pushes his jaw forward angrily. 

It thunders again in the background and Louis jumps despite himself, even though it’s much quieter down here. 

“Look, Louis,” Harry addresses him, “I know we’ve never really gotten along but I think we should resolve whatever it is tonight, before we have to play tomorrow. It’s not healthy and I think it would help the team.” 

The words spill out of his lips slowly, and Louis can tell he means everything he’s saying. It’s all common sense, is the thing, but coming from Harry it sounds like some profound idea that’s never even crossed Louis’ mind. 

To be fair, it hasn’t. If someone doesn’t like him, that’s their own problem, not Louis’. And now, under Harry’s intimidating gaze, he has absolutely no idea where to start. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“So, what is it?” Harry asks, “Why do you dislike me?” 

“I don’t -” Louis goes to tell him that he doesn’t dislike him, but stops at Harry’s unimpressed tilt of his head and sighs. “I think it’s always just felt like a bit of a competition, I guess.” 

“Like, on the team?” Harry clarifies. 

“Yeah. Like, I know we play different positions but I‘ve just always, I mean, everyone loves you.” 

That was also probably a little too vulnerable, but Harry’s just listening to him intently, shaking his head and fingering his bottom lip, so Louis rolls with it. 

“Which is also, like, fine. But sometimes it feels like no matter how good I do out there, no one’s going to notice.” He chuckles lightly to diffuse the meaning behind his words, but he surprises himself when he keeps talking, “It doesn’t help that I’m such a buzzkill to be around, I guess. No one really talks to me on the team. I don’t blame them, though.” 

“And they talk to me?” 

“Yes,” Louis nods, “they like you. You’re charismatic and nice and they all look up to you.” 

The longer Harry stares at him, the more his face flushes with color. Everything he’d just said was never supposed to be voiced aloud. It’s just - Louis doesn’t have many friends. He’s not very easy to be around, can’t relax and is probably pretty sarcastic, so he’s a bit antisocial. 

With Harry cornering him, forcing him to talk, it’s all too easy to spill all of his thoughts because he doesn’t really know how to talk to someone else like a normal human being. 

Which is all fine, he probably needs to get some things off of his chest for his health, but the last things he’d said had definitely crossed some sort of line. He waits for Harry to say something, wraps his finger around the string of his tennis shoe that he’s got on the cushion of the sofa. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I have to disagree with you.” 

At that, Louis snaps his head up to meet his eyes with a confused glint. 

“I don’t think you notice,” Harry continues, “but that’s not exactly what’s happening. Most of the guys on the team think you’re extremely talented. They’re sort of intimidated by you, I think.” 

Louis laughs and shakes his head, looking down at his lap. 

“I mean it, Louis. They’ve told me. Remember that time Payne came up to you after practice a few weeks ago?” 

It takes him a few minutes to think back to it, but Louis remembers. It’d been a long day, and he’d been tired, anxious after a big exam and a tense practice. He remembers being ready to get into bed even though it wasn’t even seven o’clock. 

He nods. 

“He wanted to ask you for advice about a play he wanted to run. Couldn’t get the logistics quite right and thought you’d be able to help.” 

Oh. When he’d come up to him that day Louis thought he was about to scold him for something he’d done, so he’d promptly ignored him and walked out of the locker room with bags under his eyes and a prominent frown on his face.  _ Oops _ , he thinks. 

“Oh.” 

“So, see?” Harry raises his brows, “they think you’re very talented, Louis. They just don’t know  _ how _ to talk to you. Everyone notices how much you contribute to the team, or else you wouldn’t be on it. And, for me, at least, it’s never been a competition.”

“But every time we both stayed after for practice and did the charity events and all of that, I thought you were, like, seeing how far I would go to prove myself on the team. I thought you were trying to say you were better than me,” Louis says. 

“Why would I compete with you, Louis? We’re on the same team. If you don’t do well, none of us do well.” 

That makes a lot of sense. Louis feels increasingly more stupid the longer they have this conversation. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he pulls on his sleeves, “I’m sorry. For all of it.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry, I just feel bad you didn’t see all of it before. I thought it was obvious how vital you are to the team.” 

He feels a bit better after that. Lighter, in a way. Harry smiles at him and Louis smiles back and everything feels okay again. 

When he shifts around on the couch, Harry stands up to go back behind the desk. 

“Now,” he says, “do you want to play Monopoly or Scrabble?” 

Louis laughs. 

\--

With his back propped up against the side of the desk, Louis sits on the floor and leans forward to put another Scrabble tile on the board. They’ve already played Monopoly once, and looked around for some more food. He’d thought about trying to get some sleep when they got back, but Harry’d looked so happy when he’d held up the Scrabble box questioningly. 

Louis yawns behind his closed fist. The rain has stopped now, so he feels calmer for that, too. He’s tired, but Harry seems alert and awake on the other side of the board, eyes passing over his tiles with a small, satisfied grin. He doesn’t have the heart to end everything now. 

He feels much better about the game now, too. Less like tomorrow is going to be the end of the world and more like everything’s going to be alright. It’s exciting, in a way, to know Harry doesn’t hate him like he’d thought. To know that he’s on his side. 

“Okay, your turn,” Harry says, looking up at him from where he’s lying on his stomach. 

Louis glances down at what he’s just spelled and laughs. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “no way.” 

“What? It’s a word,” Harry says, sitting up and defending himself. 

“How do you even pronounce that?” 

“Syzygy,” Harry says, shrugging like it’s a word he uses everyday. 

They haven’t got phones to look it up, Harry’s had died an hour or so ago, so Louis pushes a bit more. 

“And what does it mean?” 

“It’s an alignment of three heavenly bodies,” he says. 

“Why on earth do you know that?” 

Harry’s face colors a bit, “I play a lot of Scrabble,” he murmurs. 

Chuckling, Louis grabs the ‘S’ from the beginning of the word and sticks it in his pocket, grinning smugly. 

“Hey,” Harry points, “that was my last ‘S’.” 

Louis shrugs. 

“Oh, you’re on,” Harry laughs. 

He jumps up and rounds the corner of the desk just as Harry’s reaching out a hand to grab his shirt. Louis narrowly avoids his grasp and bounds to the other side of the room, squealing and dodging the old furniture in his way. He can’t remember the last time he laughed this much. 

And maybe it’s the lack of sleep or food, or he’s just delirious or something, but he feels like a whole new person. He doesn’t know why stealing one of Harry’s Scrabble tiles is as funny to him as it is, but he’s laughing so hard his face hurts a bit. 

Harry catches him soon enough, just as he’s passed the sofa for a second time, and Louis goes down easily. He falls to the floor on his back with a thud, but it doesn’t hurt. Harry’s hands are moving fast over his clothes, pinching his waist and tickling him, digging around for the tile in his pocket. 

It’s fun, and it’s friendly, and it’s everything Louis wants until -  _ oh _ . Until that happens. 

He stops squirming when one of Harry’s thighs gets wedged between his own, pressing down just as Louis juts his hips upward, and he lets out an embarrassing, breathy moan. 

Harry’s hands still on his shirt, full of the material of Louis’ jacket as he glances down at him and swallows. 

Covering his burning face with his hands, Louis tries to roll away, muttering his sorry’s from behind his fingers. Harry doesn’t move, though, pulls Louis’ arms to his sides and, slowly, he reaches one of his own hands up to move the hair off of Louis’ forehead. 

Neither of them are smiling anymore, but Louis still feels the zip of energy race through him at their position. He’s always considered Harry to be more powerful than him, something that used to anger him to no end when they were on the field. Now, though, he’s not so sure. 

Steadily but hesitantly, Harry rolls his hips down again. 

Louis groans quietly, wrists still caught in Harry’s hand. 

The next time he does it, Louis meets him halfway. He’s already stiff in his boxers, sure Harry can feel it, but for some reason Harry is watching his face intensely and moving on top of Louis like he wants this, too, so Louis tries not to think about anything else but that. 

When Harry said he’d wanted to resolve their issues, this is not what he had in mind. Tomorrow things will be awkward, surely, but Louis’ in too deep to stop now. Even if he pushes Harry off of him, grabs his things and storms out, he can’t go anywhere. To be honest, he doesn’t want to. 

Still working his hips slowly down onto Louis’, Harry shifts until Louis can feel his hot breath on his face, and then Harry’s kissing him. Just like the way he talks, Harry’s mouth is solid on top of his own, confident and savory and driving Louis insane with want. 

He doesn’t push it because this may be the only chance he gets to do this. They’re both sleep deprived and moving lazily over each other, but it still feels fast inside of Louis’ head. Like he can’t stop to memorize how soft Harry’s skin is or the way his nose scrunches up when he pulls back to take a breath. 

Which is what he’s doing now, hovering above Louis, pinning him to the floor while they rock back and forth. 

“Louis,” Harry breathes, moaning into his ear. 

He tilts his head to the side when Harry starts working on his neck, sucking and biting marks into the skin behind Louis’ ear and making him whimper, pushing up so far into Harry that he can’t feel the floor below his hips. 

“Harry,” he can’t think of anything else to say other than that, brainless and focused only on the feeling of Harry leaving a hickey on his collarbone, popping off of his skin wetly with a grin before moving back to his lips. 

One of his hands is freed when Harry lets them go in favor of linking their fingers together, and Louis uses it to thread his fingers in Harry’s hair. He pulls him closer, kisses him a bit harder, and whines into his mouth. 

Harry shushes him, brings Louis’ leg up to wrap around his waist and presses down. This way, Louis can feel the thick outline of Harry’s cock inside of his trousers. He groans. 

He’s seen Harry naked before. So has the rest of their team. They all shower in the same room and while Louis tries to keep his eyes to himself, there have been times where he  _ hasn’t _ . 

There have also been times when he’s stayed after, when it’s just him and Harry in the showers after an especially late practice, where Louis gets a hand around himself and hopes that the noise of the showers is enough to drown out his moans. 

Doing that sort of thing  _ with _ Harry is entirely different. It’s infinitely better, and Louis’ already more than halfway close to coming inside of his boxers. It’s too soon for that, though, so he swallows and tries to calm himself down, kisses the edge of Harry’s lips when he leans up. 

All of their clothes are still on. Louis wants to take them off and feel Harry’s chest, count the tattoos he knows are underneath, but he’s afraid it’ll ruin the moment. He isn’t willing to take that risk. 

Harry hitches his leg up a bit higher on his hip, and Louis chokes on his breath. It’s so  _ good _ . The swivel of Harry’s hips is precise, a juxtaposition from the way his face is drawn up, bottom lip caught between his teeth and sweat forming on his forehead. 

Shakily, Louis reaches up to pull on his lip, cupping the side of his face to pull him back down and licking over the seam of them again. He smiles when Harry moans loudly, switching the rhythm of his movements. 

Instead of side to side, Harry spreads Louis’ legs a bit wider and situates his hips so that there’s no space between them, and works them up and down. It’s like - it’s like he’s  _ inside _ of Louis and it’s all too good. 

Harry kisses the overwhelmed gasp off of his lips and pushes his arms back into the floor, sitting up a bit to focus on the slide of their bodies where they’re practically attached. Louis looks down at the same time he does, rucks down onto the line of Louis’ erection through his sweatpants, smiles dopily at his reaction. 

He feels Harry’s hand trail from his side to his stomach, feels him run a light finger up the length of his torso before using his nail to pinch Louis’ nipple through his thin tee shirt. 

Louis comes between one breath and the next, back arching off of the floor and the weight of Harry pressed down onto him. Harry follows after, hips twitching lightly every few seconds as he works himself through it, grazing Louis’ sensitive cock and drawing whimpers from his mouth. 

When it’s over, Harry releases his arms and helps him up, uses some of the tissues to clean himself and offers them to Louis politely and guides them to the couch. 

Harry lays down first, leaving enough room for Louis to lay against his front. He goes easily, snuggling back into him with a sigh. 

As the post-orgasm haze begins to fade away, Louis begins to panic a bit. He’s got every possible scenario of how this could’ve been a mistake running around his head, but Harry silences all of them. 

He grabs Louis’ chin gently and turns him so they’re face to face, noses sweetly at Louis’ cheek before kissing him again on the lips. 

For now, Louis lets himself be held and doesn’t worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow. Well, except - 

“There aren’t any cameras in here, right?” 

He falls asleep to the sound of Harry’s bright, bubbly laugh and doesn’t open his eyes again until the librarian wakes them up the next morning. 

\--

The next day, they win the game by a landslide, a mix of cheers and hugs and accolades and Louis doesn’t move from Harry’s side as they walk back to change and go home. 

They don’t leave the locker room until the day after. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you can reblog this [here](https://soldouthaz.tumblr.com/post/189980059361) :)


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